


Holiday in Bulgaria

by kaguya_yoru



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adultery, Angst, Dom/sub Undertones, F/M, Infidelity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-09
Updated: 2013-02-09
Packaged: 2017-11-28 16:59:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/676752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaguya_yoru/pseuds/kaguya_yoru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione paced in her study, every once in a while shooting glares at the small piece of parchment on her desk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Holiday in Bulgaria

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on LJ on August 20, 2005.

Hermione paced in her study, every once in a while shooting glares at the small piece of parchment on her desk. Back and forth she walked, muttering to herself, until she stopped paying attention to where she was going and bumped her hip against the sharp corner of the desk. Letting out a yelp, she hobbled over to the seat by her desk and dropped into it, glowering.

“Are you okay?” a familiar voice called.

“I’m fine,” Hermione gritted out between clenched teeth. Sighing, she dropped her head down onto her folded arms. This was the fourth time she had bumped into that same corner and both sides of her hips bore bruises in various shades, chronicling each time. Raising her head, she once again read the simple note written in a slightly untidy scrawl.

_Hermione,_

_I once asked you if you wanted to come visit me. Time has passed and that visit has never happened. Perhaps warm Italy might be a better destination than frigid Bulgaria? If, in a week, you have not sent me a response, then I shall venture alone. I await your owl._

_Viktor_

To anyone else, it would seem like an innocent invitation to visit an old friend in Italy, but Hermione knew to read between the lines. She and Ron had been married five years before and it had been heavenly. However, the so-called “honeymoon period” had worn off and now Hermione felt stagnant. They both worked long hours at the Ministry and when they were home they barely spoke to each other. Neither had taken a vacation since their honeymoon and “I love you” was uttered automatically these days. Desperate for an outlet – Ron didn’t seem to find anything wrong with their relationship – Hermione had renewed her relationship with Viktor Krum a year earlier.

They corresponded through owl post, writing long letters to each other about funny stories at work and interesting tidbits they had picked up. It was refreshing and Hermione had found herself eagerly awaiting the post each morning. However, the tone of Viktor’s letters had changed within the last couple of months. Now, tucked in with the interesting facts, were flirtatious jokes. If that wasn’t bad enough, Hermione found herself flirting back. She still awaited the post, but she felt sick every time Ron murmured “I love you” and kissed her before falling asleep at night. It had started to get harder and harder to fall asleep with his arm around her, so now she waited, body thrumming with tension, until he was asleep and then gently removed his arm from around her waist before falling herself into an uneasy sleep. Ron never mentioned it when he woke up and saw Hermione sleeping as far away as possible from him; he just kissed her good morning and went to go make coffee.

Glancing at the letter again, Hermione pursed her lips. Viktor wasn’t asking her to a friendly vacation, he wanted to know if they should take things further, if she was ready to pursue something with him. “Warm Italy” meant Ron; she had mentioned once in a letter that Ron reminded her of Italy: romantic when he wanted to be, but most of the time, he acted with all the finesse of a boot kicking a stone. “Frigid Bulgaria,” of course, meant Viktor. He had jokingly referred to himself as an iceberg once, ice cold but deceptively and dangerously deep. Hermione actually had to agree with his assessment.

Hermione set the letter to the side. She knew that time was running out, but she wasn’t sure what she wanted to do yet. Going anywhere with Viktor would be anything but a friendly trip. She rose from the desk and went downstairs to see about making dinner.

The evening passed in relative silence. Ron spent most of dinner hidden behind the Daily Prophet, only emerging to pour more pumpkin juice into his goblet. Hermione picked over her plate and reminisced about the dinners at the beginning of their marriage, which involved either stimulating discussions or horrific fights which always seemed to culminate in their making love, including that one memorable time when they couldn’t make it into the bedroom and chose the kitchen floor instead. Hermione flushed at the memory and looked up to share it with Ron, only to be greeted with page four of the Daily Prophet. She sighed and began to gather up the dishes to be washed.

That night, when Hermione crawled into bed, she tensed after pulling up the covers, waiting for Ron to put his arm around her and murmur “I love you.” Long moments passed until Hermione heard the distinctive sound of Ron snoring. She blinked a few times in disbelief before very carefully turning onto her right side. There was Ron, facing away from her, and fast asleep. Tears welled in her eyes as she recalled the night after their wedding.

_“Ron!” Hermione squeaked, as he wrapped his arms around her. “What are you doing?”_

_“I’m going to sleep,” Ron mumbled, burying his face into her curly hair._

_“Like this?” Hermione asked after a moment._

_“Why not like this?”_

_“Well, won’t you be uncomfortable?” Hermione questioned, disregarding the fact that she was actually rather comfortable enclosed in Ron’s arms._

_Ron lifted his head and looked into her wide eyes. “I never want to go to sleep without you in my arms again, Hermione,” he said simply._

Hermione stared at Ron’s back for a moment, before quietly slipping out of bed. Tying her dressing gown, she made her way to her study. Quickly, she composed a short note.

_Viktor,_

_The coolness of Bulgaria sounds heavenly after the oppressive heat of this summer. I’ll meet you at the International Floo this Saturday at noon._

_Hermione_

Hermione tied the short message to Pig, making sure to cast a silencing charm while she tied it onto his leg. She stood at the window watching Pig disappear in the moonlight and tried to ignore the tears sliding down her cheeks.

*

“What are you doing?”

Ron’s sleep roughened voice made Hermione pause in her packing. Turning, she steeled herself and looked directly into Ron’s heavy lidded eyes. “I have to go do some research out of the country. I may be gone for a couple of weeks, at least.”

Ron scratched his stomach and then nodded his head. “Okay,” he said before climbing out of bed and shuffling into the bathroom.

Hermione almost gaped in disbelief. Ron had always told her that she was a terrible liar. Either she had gotten better or Ron just couldn’t tell anymore. Both thoughts made her sad. She resumed packing when she heard the shower start in the bathroom.

Twenty minutes later, she was done and checking to make sure that she hadn’t forgotten anything. She had had to bring some of her work with her in order to back up her fib and had already called the Ministry to inform them that she was going to take a leave of absence for research. She was just double checking when she heard the shower cut off and the door to the bathroom opened, letting out a billow of steam. Without looking at Hermione, Ron quickly crossed the room and pulled on his robes.

On his way out of the room, he suddenly noticed Hermione still standing there. Ron raised his eyebrows. “You’re still here? Well, be careful and I’ll see you when you get back.” He gave her a chaste kiss on her forehead and headed downstairs to grab a bit of breakfast before Apparating.

Hermione wiped a tear from a corner of her eye. She knew now that she had to leave. Moving to the top of the stairs, Hermione listened for the tell-tale crack of Ron Disapparating. After she heard it, she moved back into the bedroom and picked up her suitcases. She looked around the bedroom once before Apparating to the International Floo, fighting back tears the entire time.

*

Hermione climbed out of Floo, grumbling. She wasn’t ecstatic about taking the Floo, but it was better than accidentally splinching herself because of the emotional state that she was in. Straightening, she moved from in front of the fireplace and tried to brush the soot from her body before Viktor could see her.

“Herm-own-ninny?”

Hermione whirled around. There stood Viktor Krum, looking slightly less surly than usual. He was still slightly duck-footed and round-shouldered, but he had filled out even more since the last time she saw him and she could see the impression of muscles even through his robes.

“Viktor!” Hermione cried, genuinely glad to see him. She threw her arms around his neck and gave him a big hug. Viktor awkwardly hugged her back, seemingly unsure of where to put his hands. Hermione pulled back. “Have you been waiting long?”

“No,” Viktor replied gruffly. “Let’s get out of here,” he added, picking up her heavy bags with ease. He began to quickly walk out of the Bulgaria station.

Hermione struggled to keep up with his long strides. “I’m sorry, are you in a hurry?” she asked, panting slightly.

“No,” Viktor said, but sped up a little bit. “I just don’t like the staring.”

Startled, Hermione glanced around. There were quite a few people staring. She redoubled her efforts to keep up. Emerging from the station, Hermione gave an involuntary shiver. She had thought to pack warmly, but obviously her robes were not made for Bulgarian weather. Folding her arms, she turned in time to see Viktor wave his wand and make her bags disappear.

Viktor noticed her inquiring look. “I sent them ahead.”

“Oh.” Hermione looked around. “How are we getting to…wherever we’re going?” she asked uncertainly.

Viktor grinned and reached into his pocket. Hermione felt a wave of foreboding. He pulled out something and tapped it once with his wand. The object grew quickly until Viktor was holding the latest version of the Firebolt.

“Oh,” Hermione said again, staring at the broom apprehensively. She had never liked flying and had never gotten the hang of it, preferring to travel by Floo or Apparate instead. “I’m not sure…I don’t really…” she stuttered.

“It’s all right,” Viktor said. “You’ll be okay.” He held out his right hand, the left still clutching his broom.

Hermione bit her lip. She didn’t really have much choice. She placed her much smaller hand into Viktor’s and stepped a little closer to the broom. Viktor urged her onto it and after a couple of tries, she got settled comfortably. Then Viktor swung his leg over the broom and positioned himself behind her, the inside of his thighs pressing against the outside of hers. Before they took off, Hermione performed a tricky little warming charm that would keep them from freezing on the way. She heard a surprised “Thanks” before Viktor’s thighs suddenly tensed and then they were airborne.

*

“Hermy-own-ninny.”

Hermione kept her eyes closed. She felt she had been doing well so far. She had yet to scream, despite her feeling of mounting terror.

“Herm-own-ninny?”

Viktor sounded so concerned that Hermione squeaked out a “Yes?”

Viktor shifted uncomfortably and responded sheepishly, “Your fingers are digging into my legs. It hurts.”

Hermione breathed out and released her grip on Viktor’s thighs marginally. “Are we almost there?”

“Vat’s vrong?”

She shuddered. “I…I don’t like flying,” she said in a rush.

There was silence for a moment and then Viktor said, “Open your eyes.”

“Do I have to?”

“Do it.”

Hermione slowly peeled open her eyes and looked at the scene displayed below them, her hands unconsciously digging into Viktor’s thighs when she saw how high they were. She made an odd whimpering noise in her throat.

“Look at it, really look at it.” Viktor’s breath was warm against her ear.

Hermione gave herself a mental shake and really began to look at the scene below. There was a large lake directly below them and it was surrounded by a vast forest. Its surface was frosted over, but it looked like a slightly clouded pane of glass; she could see shapes moving beneath the surface. The sun shone brightly over the entire landscape.

“It’s beautiful,” Hermione breathed.

“I discovered it by accident one day when I vas ten and had stolen my father’s broomstick.” Viktor’s arms tightened around Hermione. “It’s been my favorite spot since then.” They circled around the lake a few more times, before finally moving on. According to Hermione’s calculations, they were traveling southwest. She sat back more firmly against Viktor and decided to enjoy the ride, keeping her eyes open the entire time.

*

They arrived at a large log cabin nestled in another clearing, just as the sun was setting. Hermione awkwardly climbed off the broom as soon as they touched down. It still wasn’t her favorite way to travel but she wasn’t as terrified as before. Viktor also dismounted and led the way into the cabin.

Hermione was greeted by a rush of warm air when the door opened. As soon as she stepped into the room, she saw that the fireplace was already lit. They were inside a large living room in which the massive fireplace was the centerpiece. A long sofa faced the crackling fire and a throw rug rested in the space between the sofa and the fireplace. A moderate bookcase graced one wall and a cluttered desk was pushed against another. To her left was the small kitchen and she could see an entranceway straight ahead that presumably led to the bathroom and – Hermione couldn’t suppress a slight shiver – the bedrooms.

Viktor was hanging his cloak on an antique looking coat rack. Hermione hurried to unfasten her cloak also. When she finished and turned around from hanging her cloak up, she found Viktor looking at her. “Your room is the one all the vay down to the right and the bathroom is right across the hall from your room. You can…freshen up vile I prepare dinner,” he finished a little uncomfortably.

Hermione gave him a quick smile in thanks and hurried towards her bedroom. Upon opening the door, she could tell that it wasn’t used much and that Viktor had obviously tried to brighten things up a little for her. She walked over to the vase on top of the dresser and smelled the wildflowers arranged there, briefly wondering where he had managed to find them. Hermione set the vase back down and turned towards her bed, noting that her bags rested neatly at the foot of it. The bed was full-sized and had a comfortable mattress which Hermione discovered when she tested it. Looking around, Hermione saw that there wasn’t anything particularly remarkable about the room.

She reached for a suitcase and proceeded to quickly change – her traveling clothes still had soot on them from the Floo. Hermione debated about putting her clothes inside the dresser, but ultimately decided that that was too intimate for her and suggested that she would be staying indefinitely. Instead she slipped out of the room and into the bathroom.

Apart from her hair looking a little windswept and her face having a few streaks of soot, she looked fine, so she checked out the bathroom. There was nothing of note in the bathroom either. There was a small tub with a shower attached and a toilet. The only mirror hung above the sink. The bathroom didn’t look as if it had been frequented much either.

Hermione left the bathroom, but hesitated before going back down the hallway to rejoin Viktor. Sighting a room to her right and closer to the living room, Hermione crept down the hallway and quietly entered the room.

She had to stifle a gasp when she opened the door. This room was decidedly male. It had the same style that she saw in the living room and was kept clean. Her eyes traveled to the center of the room where a large four-poster bed stood. She flushed as she imagined Viktor lounging there and quickly looked away from the bed. Her eyes fell on a door on the right which was partially open. She could see part of what looked like an extremely large tub. Her imagination wandered again and she closed the door to the bedroom before she could have any more ideas. She stood in the hallway, silently composing herself before making her way back into the living room.

They had an enjoyable dinner together. They couldn’t stop talking during their meal and afterwards they retired to the living room, leaving the dishes to wash themselves. Hermione carried the champagne, while Viktor disappeared down the hallway, returning with blankets. They sat on the throw rug and curled up together in front of the fire, still chatting. Finally, they settled down into a comfortable silence. Hermione leaned back against the couch and stared into the fire. It was comfortable listening to the crackling of the fire and feeling the heat emanating from Viktor. At that last thought, the mood suddenly changed.

Hermione licked her lips and looked up at Viktor. He was looking back at her, the fire casting shadows across his face, but not diminishing the intensity of his gaze. Slowly, he moved closer to her until his lips met hers. Hermione allowed her eyes to close at the sensation. Viktor’s lips were slightly chapped from the wind outside, but that only added to the feeling. He was careful, slowly caressing every part of her lips. Hermione’s mouth fell open at the feeling of his tongue at the crease of her lips and he just as slowly explored every corner of her mouth. Hermione gave a small whimper and slid her arms around his neck.

They kissed like that for several moments, before Viktor pulled back. “I don’t vant to do this here,” he admitted gruffly.

Hermione stared at him wide-eyed. This was the moment where she had to decide. After this, there was no turning back and no way to say that she had just made a mistake. She remembered the way Ron had kissed her that morning and slowly nodded her head. Viktor rose, allowing the blanket to pool at his feet and held out his hand. Hermione grasped it and stood up too, surprised to find that she was slightly unsteady on her feet. She must have drunk more champagne than she thought. Still holding his hand, Hermione followed Viktor to the door she had opened earlier.

Viktor pulled her inside and closed the door. Turning, he pulled her to him and resumed kissing her while backing them towards the bed. Right before Hermione’s knees would have hit the mattress Viktor stopped walking and pulled back from the kiss. “I vant to see you,” he said huskily. Hermione nodded and began to take off her shirt. “No, no, no,” Viktor said, placing his hands on top of hers. “Let me.”

Biting her lip, Hermione let her hands fall to the side. Viktor moved his hands so that his fingers were skimming the skin right above her jeans before attaching his lips to Hermione’s neck. While he nipped and sucked, his fingers moved restlessly on her lower stomach. His lips moved across her collarbone, enticing moans from Hermione. He pulled away and grasped the hem of her shirt, pulling it quickly over her head. Viktor removed the rest of her clothes just as quickly and encouraged her to lie on the bed. Then he disrobed, his eyes never moving from her prone form.

Hermione sat up on her elbows and licked her lips as Viktor removed his clothing. She had been right earlier; his body had gained more muscle since the last time she saw him. Hermione scooted backwards towards the head of the bed as Viktor knelt at the foot.

His actions slowed down again and he almost worshipped her body with the amount of attention that he paid it. By the time he was ready to enter her, she was incoherent with need. Viktor shushed her whimpers as he slowly pushed inside her. Hermione arched her back, urging Viktor with her body to move faster and harder, but he remained at the same slow pace. Hermione couldn’t help moaning, her body straining, her fingers scrabbling at Viktor’s back. Viktor finally took pity on her and began stimulating her clitoris with one hand. Hermione was drowning in sensation, but she wasn’t sure if it was going be enough, when her orgasm suddenly hit her by surprise. Her body shuddered in pleasure and she could dimly hear Viktor moaning out his own orgasm.

Viktor collapsed on top of Hermione, but quickly rolled to his back. He lay there for several moments before propping himself up on one arm. “Herm-“

Hermione shushed him and then turned onto her side, presenting her back to him. After a moment, Viktor curled up behind her and wrapped one arm around her waist. Soon, he was fast asleep. Hermione lay there for an hour, just listening to Viktor breathe.

*

Viktor woke up in the morning, refreshed and relaxed. Stretching out his arm, he began to wish Hermione a good morning when he realized that she wasn’t in the bed with him. “Herm-“ he began to say, sitting up, when he noticed Hermione standing at the foot of the bed, completely dressed. Viktor leaned back against the headboard, “You’re leaving.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yes,” Hermione replied. She fidgeted for a moment, before the words burst out of her. “Viktor, I’m sor-“

“No,” Viktor interrupted. “I don’t vant to hear you say that you’re sorry.” His voice sounded harsh even to his own ears. He softened it before continuing. “It’s my fault.” He shook his head when Hermione opened her mouth to protest. “It is.” His tone was final.

Hermione hesitated a moment before she walked over to Viktor’s side. Leaning down slightly, she captured his lips with hers, letting her lips do the talking. Resting her forehead against his, she whispered, “Thank you, Viktor.”

Hermione walked to the door. She paused with one hand on the doorjamb and looked back at Viktor. “Goodbye.” She firmly shut the door behind her, but Viktor still heard the tiny pop as she Disapparated.

*

Hermione stumbled out of the Floo, her foot catching on the uneven stone at the base of her fireplace. I have to get that fixed, she thought to herself while crossing over to her bed. She immediately burst into tears at the thought, sinking down onto the familiar mattress. Hermione didn’t know how long she cried before her tears finally subsided into hiccoughs.

“So I heard something interesting at work today.”

Hermione, startled, turned around quickly and looked into the chair that rested near the fireplace. Ron was sitting in it, his body half obscured by shadows in the unlit room. He continued, “You know, from that witch Flora Wainhart. I never liked her much; I always thought her too nosy. But her voice is just so loud, you can’t help but listen to her.” Here, Ron gave a humorless chuckle.

Hermione sat frozen on the bed. She didn’t know how to approach this Ron. Her Ron would always get loud when he was angry, but this Ron was chillingly quiet. He sounded calm, but she could tell that anger was brimming just below the surface.

Ron continued, “She said… and here’s the funny part. I think that she wanted me to hear what she was saying. After all, she was only sitting at the next table over and, like I said, she was speaking in a rather loud voice. She said, ‘Guess what I heard from Svetlana yesterday?’ ‘What?’ her friend said. ‘Well, you know how she has family in Bulgaria?’ ‘Yes?’ ‘Well, she was in the Bulgarian Floo station, about to come home, you know, when she swears that she saw Hermione Weasley hugging Viktor Krum!’ ‘No!’ ‘Yes!’ ‘But she’s married to Ron Weasley, isn’t she?’ ‘As far as we know, anyway. I heard from Helena Liverwort that she’s off doing “research.”’ ‘I’ll bet she is! That Viktor Krum is such a hunk!’ And so on and so forth,” he said, waving a hand in the air. “I think you get the picture, don’t you?” He didn’t wait for a response and Hermione was too terrified to give one.

Ron leaned forward slightly. “Now at first, I was furious. My wife is supposed to be doing research, but instead she’s shacking up with Krum! Then I calmed down. Maybe there’s a perfectly good explanation for this. Maybe she’s doing research with Krum and forgot to tell me. Maybe this is all just one big misunderstanding.” He gave another humorless chuckle. “Then I thought about the morning you left.” His voice suddenly shook with anger. “You lied to me, Hermione.”

Hermione sat trembling on the bed. She was caught and their marriage was over. She might as well tell him the truth. She owed him that much. “Ron, I’m sor-“

Ron jumped up from his seat and quickly strode over to where Hermione was sitting. Grabbing both of her arms, he hauled her up from the bed. “You’re mine,” he growled before capturing her lips in a bruising kiss. Hermione kissed back as much as she could. This was the Ron she was missing, the Ron that she dated, the Ron that she fell in love with. This passion was exactly what she wanted and needed.

Ron suddenly pulled back from the kiss. “Did he kiss you?”

“Yes.” Hermione was breathless from their kiss.

“Did he touch you?”

“Yes.”

“Did he fuck you?”

“Yes.” Hermione was trembling again.

“Did you get off?” Hermione was quiet. “Did you get off?” he repeated through clenched teeth, shaking her slightly.

“Yes!” Hermione shouted.

“Did you think of me?”

“Yes.”

“The entire time?”

“Yes.” Hermione felt as if she would start crying again. Her voice and her body were both trembling now.

Ron paused for a moment. He abruptly let go of her left arm and pulled out his wand. He aimed it at the fireplace and a towering fire erupted in it. Then he turned back to Hermione. His face was calm, but she could see the pain and anger in his eyes. “Ron,” she started to say, but Ron interrupted her.

“You’re only allowed to say yes or no,” he instructed her. “Do you understand?”

Hermione thought about protesting, but then she caught sight of his eyes again. There was still love and desire in his eyes, but she realized that he had to do this first. Hermione slowly nodded her head, but quickly said “Yes” when Ron’s expression darkened.

Ron took his wand and ran it down the column of Hermione’s throat to the top button of her button-down shirt. Without a word, he Banished both her shirt and bra, leaving her naked from the waist up. He trailed his wand down to her nipple, watching as it began to harden as he traced circles around it. “Did he touch you here?” he asked as he did the same with her other nipple.

“Yes,” Hermione said as she remembered Viktor teasing her nipples with his fingers before his mouth replaced them.

Ron moved the wand so that it was inside her belly button. “Did he touch you here?”

“Yes.” Viktor had spent what had seemed like an eternity just dipping in and out of her belly button with his tongue.

Ron’s wand traveled to the top of her jeans. He moved the wand back and forth across the skin just covered by her jeans and then Banished the rest of her clothes so that she was completely naked. He repositioned the wand so that he was now tracing designs across her ass and asked, “How about here?”

“Yes.” Viktor had loved holding her body up, hands planted firmly on her ass, as he moved at that incredibly slow pace.

Ron moved the wand again so that it was skimming the lips of her vagina, every so often ghosting over her clitoris. “And here?”

“Y-yes,” Hermione moaned and she swayed slightly.

Ron’s eyes darkened. He Banished his own clothing and pushed Hermione onto the bed, climbing onto it after her. Grabbing her thighs, Ron flung open her legs and, without any preparation, quickly sheathed himself inside her. Hermione arched her back and moaned loudly, wrapping her legs around his waist, and thrusting upwards to meet him.

“Did…did it feel like this?” Ron asked, setting a relentless pace.

“No,” Hermione moaned, her fingers digging into Ron’s back.

“And you thought about me?”

“Yes!”

“The entire time?”

“Gods, yes!”

Ron leaned over so that he was right next to her ear. “Did he make you come like this?” he asked, reaching one hand down to stimulate her clitoris.

Hermione could only scream out in pleasure as her orgasm coursed through her. Wave after wave of sensation overwhelmed her until she felt as if she was drowning. She could feel Ron thrusting inside her twice more before he followed her over the edge, growling something that sounded suspiciously like “Mine.” Hermione lay afterwards, panting, trying to catch her breath, Ron’s weight as he still lay on top of her a comforting presence. Finally, when Hermione could breathe again, she whispered into Ron’s ear, “No, only you can.”

She felt Ron smile briefly against her shoulder before he pulled out of her and cast cleaning charms. Then he gathered her up in his arms so that they were on their sides and her back rested against his front. “You’re mine, Hermione,” he mumbled into her hair, kissing the nape of her neck.

Hermione smiled. “I always will be.”


End file.
